Here, with you
by CrayonCalendar
Summary: Snow Villiers is the lead singer of the up and rising band Bodhum 101, though he is more inclined to stick with the band thanks to his talent, his voice. His love is elsewhere, and when he finds that that source of such love has been erased from this world, himself put to blame, he doesn't know what to do anymore... And then he meets her.


A young maiden, around her late teens stood outside the front doorway of her home. She leant an arm and elbow on the cool railing of her entry; what protected her from a large decline. Her fist bored into her cheek, as she watched on at the scene, beyond her small neighbourhood.

It was sunset in the cooling, resort-like town of Bodhum, where the view of the fal'Cie retreating slowly into the dense clouds above, was mesmerizingly colourful, and beautiful; never seeming to lose its edge in all the years she'd been living there.

She enjoyed watching Bodhum's sunset, more so than any of her friends or classmates. She always thought of it as just another sign of how she was different from her peers. To her, there was meaning in everything, and beauty in everything, you just had to have the resolution to find it.

The worst sin to her, was people taking everything in the great life they lived at face value, and just leaving it at that. Living life, without discovering the great beauty surrounding them, ignoring it, and then using that beauty for some selfish, lifeless goal... The pinkette was in a weird sort of mood.

With glassy, grey irises she watched on at the seabirds, playing over the distant promenade, in the last few auburn stains of sunlight. They occupied her usual spot, where she would just walk to and from, feeling the contrast of humidity with the coolness of the breeze, and simply take in the sights, soak in the atmosphere.

Today though, admiring their... peculiar cuteness, but also feeling the shifting weights of burdens of her mind, she'd made the simple decision to just watch them, and the sunset, from her entry.

She had been thinking. Why couldn't she be just like them?

Have fun, and stop worrying about the world around her. Do things her way.

Eat food off the floor without a care in the world—although the pinkette probably wouldn't make much use of such freedom…

Play all day, and not work at all—although she didn't really mind, as long as her career was within her interests...

Fly off and explore the world—she guessed that that was a point. She then wondered why exactly she envied these seabirds in the first place, as they fought over a fallen wrapper now on the nearby sand. She remembered, sadly.

It was to fly away, across the sea into another world, befriend new faces, and then fly away again, farewelling the new friends with the old, with the knowledge that—most likely, you would never see each other again, until the day you dissolved into the sky.

To do this without being overwhelmed by feelings of sadness, emptiness—as you watch the world play on without you, leaving you as you are; stuck in the past. As everyone else goes about their monotonous routines. She pulled a frown at the revelation.

Could seabirds even understand such a concept? Probably not, she almost laughed. They probably thought they would see each other again, eventually, or they would die with that very hope.

She smiled at that, before sinking her head further into her arms. Then suddenly her phone began ringing from inside her home.

To alter her mood, it screeched one of her favourite tracks—from her friend's, quote, absolute favouritest band in all the world, Bodhum 101. It always annoyed the hell out of her sister—she never really understood the music kids were into these days—or music in general. She was out working until late like every other weekday, so the pinkette decided to just leave the phone be. She could guess who was calling her anyway. It was most likely the daily check-up from her classmate—her homeroom's teacher's pet, Alyssa.

She could already imagine what she was going to say to her, and it wasn't something to look forward to. The pinkette felt terrible for lying to her the other day, and she wasn't in the mood for answering her phone either, which was very unfortunate for her. She just had to learn to be more friendly.

She chuckled at the thought, before sighing again.

Was this feeling ever going to go away? She sometimes thought that maybe she was actually depressed—a weird kind of depressed where she would be upbeat most of the time, but would lose all her energy at the flick of a switch. It really only took one major inconvenience nowadays for this to happen. And did it really matter anyway? She felt her eyes could see clearly the world. Of what actually mattered.

She hadn't attended school for the past two weeks. Yes, her, the nothing-less-than-A student, 'Miss Steady-Achiever'. Ever since her death, the pinkette understood she had been slowly changing. First suddenly, then gradually. If she hadn't changed, she wouldn't have known what she would have done. She didn't want to be stuck living the way she used to live. Now that would've been depressing.

Life is short. That was all she needed to know, suddenly—with that her mind flashed back to those visions of the past. That horrible event, the feelings of panic and utter helplessness. Fear. She clenched the railing with her hands, bowing her head from the anxiety brought up. It was too much for her. She braced off the beckoning fear, the swelling tears, and quickly made it her resolution to focus her attention at what she'd initially stepped outside for. She faced the sky, an attempt to leave the vision and that past behind.

The fal'Cie had almost disappeared, and a small light enveloped by deep indigo, and darkness, filled the surrounding skyscape. Like a dying hope. The thought was stupid, but unfortunately, she didn't feel it so. She looked over towards the seabirds, and saw them still at play—though noticeably more idle in their behaviour. It wouldn't be long now until they would fly off, to maybe their flock, their family, she reasoned. Subconsciously, she moved away from where she'd been leaning.

With a tired, startlingly light step, she walked down the entry steps, headed towards the promenade, her haven for sorting herself out of these ruts.


End file.
